


Anytime

by saffrondawn



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffrondawn/pseuds/saffrondawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher hates Thanksgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anytime

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's past Thanksgiving over in the US, but the plot bunny only came to me about an hour ago.

Ian Gallagher hates Thanksgiving.

He did like it at one point, but that was before Debbie was born and Frank and Monica made some kind of effort to give their kids a good holiday. He remembers liking it more once Debbie learned how to bake because the morning after Thanksgiving, she would try a new cookie recipe that they sampled for her until she perfected it for Christmas. Thanksgiving was home and good food and liquor and fun.

Then Monica.

After that, he can't convince himself to look at Thanksgiving the same way again. He can't see it for anticipation of Debbie's cookies. Instead, it's wanting to avoid the Gallagher kitchen as much as possible.

His avoidance has gotten worse since he found a drug cocktail that works with his bipolar disorder. Another thanks for Monica for that one. He wants to avoid the Gallagher house more and more, but Mickey drags him there a couple times a week because he knows his boyfriend needs his family around him. Ian appreciates it, he does, but he doesn't like that when he's in the kitchen, filling a glass with water from the tap, he arcs his body until he avoids where Monica was that one Thanksgiving.

Mickey teases him once about it, without anyone hearing, and the next time they go to the Gallaghers, Ian avoids getting up to get water. He waits until Mickey offers, and then waits for some comment about him being a princess, but it never comes. When dinner's done and it's his and Mickey's turn for washing dishes, he makes it as far as the counter before he starts hyperventilating. He can't hear what Mickey's saying to him, but he feels the chair underneath him, one of Liam's sippy cups in front of him, and Mickey telling him to sip from water from the cup. Ian focuses on Mickey while the man does the dishes and he sips on the cup. When he's almost done, Mickey picks up the cup, washes it, and settles down next to Ian right as Fiona and Debbie walk down from upstairs.

Mickey doesn't question what happened with people filing back downstairs and Ian loves him even more for that. It's only when they're in the safety of their bedroom and Ian has taken his night pills does he start squirming and Ian knows he wants to ask.

“You okay, Ian?”

“Yeah. The same pills every night,” Ian says, as he makes his way to his side of the bed and spreads out.

“That's not what I mean. Earlier. When we were going to do dishes, you freaked out or something.”

“I wanted to get out of doing dishes,” Ian plasters on a wide grin, but the way Mickey is looking at him, he knows it's a lie.

Mickey inches closer to Ian until once more, there is little space between them. “I'm being serious. You weren't right. You looked like you couldn't breathe, and you started to sweat. I didn't know what to do. I thought you were getting – I don't know what. I almost yelled for Fiona.”

Ian burrows his head into his boyfriend's chest, “Don't do that. Please don't do that.”

“Then tell me what's wrong.” Mickey doesn't sound angry, but his next words are even softer, “Please, tell me what's wrong, Ian.”

Ian pulls out of his hiding spot. He sighs deeply, then starts, “Remember that time you were juvie the second time?” He waits for a nod. “Well, Monica came back and it was good. Then, she crashed really badly. We let her be as we usually did.” He could feel Mickey tighten his muscles. Mickey knew the Gallagher's treatment of Monica was different from their treatment of Ian, but he was scared that somewhere down the line they would treat him the same way. He admitted it once to Ian when he felt like talking about Monica for once. “Frank came around, gave her some Lithium, and she was better for a bit. She sat down at dinner, and then told me she was getting something from the kitchen. The next thing I know we all hear something and she's on the ground, her wrists slit and she's choking on air. Jimmy figured out what to do, and she was fine, but there was a lot of blood.”

Ian feels his boyfriend's fingers on his face and he doesn't realize he began to cry. “That's the one Monica story you never told me.”

Ian shakes his head, but not enough to dislodge the fingers, “Yeah, I don't like to talk about it. Especially now with me and everything. But I hate Thanksgiving. She ruined it and the kitchen.”

Mickey nods his head, “Ian, you know Thanksgiving's next week, right?”

Ian nods and feels more tears fall, “Yeah. We're supposed to go, but I don't know, Mick.”

Mickey pulls him tighter to him, “That's okay. We can plan something, just you and me, and if you want to go, then we can ditch it and go over.”

“You sure?”

Mickey nods, “Wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't.”

Ian gives him a light kiss, “Thanks Mick.”

*****

When Mickey wakes up Thanksgiving morning, he refrains from immediately spouting out, “Happy Thanksgiving.” Instead, he focuses on his boyfriend, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey, Ginger Root. What we doing today?”

Ian rolls his eyes at the new nickname before breathing deeply. “I'm thinking dinner at the Gallagher's.”

Mickey's eyebrows shoot up, but he controls his face, so Ian doesn't see. “Yeah?”

Ian nods before turning his head to look at Mickey, “Yeah.”

“All right. You call Fiona and I'll get your pills.” Mickey quickly stands, gets Ian his pills and some water before returning as the other man is speaking into his cell phone with a small smile on his face. When he hangs up, he takes the pills, and grabs onto Mickey's wrist, “Stay with me.”

“Of course.”

*****

The Gallagher house is louder than it should ever be, but since it's Thanksgiving, it could lead to perforated eardrums soon. Mickey sat on the small recliner, watching as Ian walks from the kitchen to the recliner with Debbie on his right side and listening intently to whatever she's talking about. When Ian's close enough to Mickey, he almost runs to hop onto his boyfriend's lap. Mickey doesn't mind the little space they share in front of their families anymore, but he doesn't like that Ian finds himself having to burrow into Mickey to feel safe.

“We can go whenever you want,” Mickey whispers into Ian's ear.

The young man turns his head, gives him a kiss, and shakes his head, “I'll be fine. Just stay with me, and I'll be fine.”

They sit like that for a while, and Mickey watches the rest of the Gallaghers as Ian has started a conversation with Lip about something or other. The rest of them don't look as if they're apart to pass out from the stress the holiday is putting on them, no one else looks like they have to avoid the kitchen at all costs. Mickey wonders if it has to do with they're really good at hiding it, or maybe it's just Ian. Not the bipolar thing, but the being the most like Monica thing. He remembers his boyfriend telling him once that was why Frank didn't like him – too much like Monica.

He holds his boyfriend closer to him, and Ian notices the slight pressure. He gives him a kiss before laying on Mickey's chest, still continuing to talk to Lip like nothing just happened.

When Fiona calls that dinner's ready, Ian pulls Mickey up quick before scrambling to a seat near the wall. He doesn't know why he's so insistent on it, but he figures it's another thing that's going to make Ian less like Ian today. As the food is passed around and everyone digs in, Mickey finds himself using his left hand (he's gotten good at it) to eat with his right holding onto Ian's own hand as he ate. No one comments on it, which is good because it would respond with a “Fuck you” and actually mean the anger behind the words.

When the meal is finished and Debbie and Carl are helping clean up (Mickey made sure to do the dishes a few extra times in the past week so he could get out of Thanksgiving dishes in case they ended up there), Ian takes him upstairs to the old room he once shared with Carl and Liam. They lay down and doze as their food digests. Mickey feels Ian get closer and closer to him and wrap himself around the older man.

“Everything okay over there?” Mickey asks. He wants to see Ian's face, but the way they're laying makes it hard to do.

“Yeah. Thank you, Mick.”

“Anytime.”

Ian shakes his head, “No. I don't think you understand.” Ian sits up until his back is against the wall, staring Mickey down. He breathes heavily before realizing what he's doing and controlling it. “You do a lot of shit for me, and everyone shits on you and they don't get it. You spend nights here so I can visit my family when we could be watching TV at home or playing video games or whatever. You let me decide what we could do for Thanksgiving when we already had plans to come here anyway and not coming would make Liam sad and have Lip say shit, but you let me choose. You saw I wasn't well, and you've always known when I wasn't well. You knew I didn't want to come at first because I hate this fucking holiday, but you let me choose and then we come and you watch me. Shut up for a second, asshole. I don't mean it in a bad way. But you made sure I was comfortable and I wasn't going to freak out. You held me when you could because you being near me levels me out. And I want to say thank you.”

Mickey stays quiet for a moment, “Anytime.”

Ian huffs out a breath, “Mickey--”

“Ian,” Mickey sits up and moves to sit next to his boyfriend, “When I say 'anytime,' I really do mean 'anytime.'”

He looks at him in disbelief, “Why?”

Mickey shrugs, “I love you.” He watches Ian's shoulders sag in relief. He isn't sure of the cause of his long-winded confession or his own three-word confession, but Ian has a dopey smile on his face.

He grabs the older man's hand and positions them so they're laying down again. “Let's take a nap before pie.”

“They're going to think we're fucking if we fall asleep.”

“Fuck them. I want pie, but my stomach needs to digest first.”


End file.
